Humanly Remains
by AdaptableAmbition
Summary: For the last six years, Danny's ghost-half has been taking over his body, culling while Danny's human side was forced to fall into slumber. But he only has one month of humanity left, and with Sam kidnapped, he teams up with the few friends he has left. Rescuing Sam isn't going to be easy—especially since she hates him. And since Danny's teammates dropping like flies at his hands.


**Disclaimer: I do not own Danny Phantom, or any of the elements it has. **

"Danny, look—"

Sam paused. She looked deep into my blue eyes, her eyes not displaying the contempt I expected, but despondency.

"You told me because you love me. And honestly, that's okay. But when your ghost-half takes over, people die. It was hardly okay when it was people we didn't know, but Jazz? Your own sister? I-I've been through it all, Danny, but I'm starting to worry about_ my _safety. Tucker's safety. If your ghost-half can't tell who it's killing, who's next?"

"Sam, I—"

"No." There were tears in her eyes. "I'm _tired _of finding you unconscious with blood on your hands in the middle of God knows where. I'm tired of—of having to cover up for you all the time! Of erasing your tracks! So you know what? I'm done. _I'm fucking done._"

Sam was never one to swear. It must have been a special occasion, I suppose. Even as an adult, or a young one, aging to be around twenty-four, she never really stopped being the Sam I knew from when we first found out I was a half-ghost at age fourteen. She dropped the gothic theme, but still enjoyed dark colors. I didn't think it would ever leave her.

"Just give me time. I'll figure something out! Tie myself down, or—"

"You're a ghost, Danny." The calmness in her voice had returned. She put her hand on my cheek and smiled tenderly. "And I love you. But I feel threatened by you, so I have to leave. If you figure out how to control it, find me. I'll be waiting."

At that, I was left in silence, tears dripping down my cheeks, as she ran away.

"Don't leave me here alone."

**. . .**

I awoke with my face in liquid. It must have seeped into my mouth, because I could taste it. Metallic.

I groaned, spitting out all I could. It was blood, and boy, was I covered in it. I got up, soaked clothes weighing me down. The victim of my most recent attack was hung from the flagpole by his underwear in what appeared to be my old high school's yard. My vision was blurry, so it was hard to make out who it was, but judging by body shape, I knew exactly who it was.

Dash, the jock that used to bully me. I hadn't seen him for years, but apparently my ghost-half still had some beef with him. Because, well, his head wasn't on the body. It was a few feet away from me. He had taken such a beating—it was pretty hard to tell who he was. He even didn't have the same varsity jacket anymore. He wore a skin-tight sweater and jeans, so it was hard to tell if he managed to be successful or not. He was pretty dense during school, so probably not.

I trudged out of the schoolyard. I would return to my apartment, but it felt empty with Sam gone. She always had a way to liven up the place; painting the walls, hiding the meat I would purchase, and never cleaning up the cat toys scattered all over the apartment. The walls continued to be the same, but the meat always stayed in the fridge, and the cat toys were packed up, along with our cat, probably miles away from Amity Park.

I took back streets and alleys on my way to Tucker's house. Or my old one. After my parents' . . ._ untimely_ deaths, he worked with their equipment, trying to solve my issue. According to him, every time my ghost-half takes over, it takes over for precisely ten minutes longer. These hostile takeovers started on my eighteenth birthday, so, according to some Fenton equipment, I had one more month from today until I fell into the void and my ghost-half took over.

I knocked on the door.

Tucker answered, smiling at me. "Hey Danny!" he exclaimed, and then examined me, ending it with a frown. "Who was it this time?"

"Dash," I responded, avoiding Tucker's gaze.

"I guess karma finally struck. Come on, I think I found something that can slow down the process a little longer."

Down in the lab, Tucker had me strapped into a chair. He darted across the room, pouring liquids into test tubes, mixing them, and testing them with his PDA. He soon came to me with a syringe in his hand. "Okay, this might hurt a _little _bit, but if I'm right, it'll give you another week or so. How about that?"

I forced out a grin. "Thanks."

With that, he plunged the needle into my arm, squeezing some kind of bronze liquid into my befouled veins. When it was finished, Tucker beamed, but I had to contain a grunt of pain. Whatever it was, it felt like it was cutting me open from the inside. I could hear an eerie noise coming from inside my body, but Tucker didn't seem to notice until I actually did let out an "_argh_!" of pain.

"Whoa, dude. You okay?"

"Does this wear off?"

"What?"

"Does this—_the pain_, wear off?"

Tucker ran a quick scan with his PDA. "It hurts while it makes its way through your DNA, and basically your entire body. It should last another five minutes or so."

And it did.

After the excruciating minutes, Tucker treated me to some lunch in my old kitchen. "Any news from Sam?" I asked, trying not to sound too desperate.

"We kept in touch until about a week ago. I don't know why, but she hasn't responded."

"Huh." I knew I wasn't allowed to know where she was, or what she was doing, or what she was thinking. Even though my ghost-half couldn't access my human thoughts, it sure did have a way of having mutual knowledge with me. Knowing Sam's location could get her culled.

"It's really weird. She hasn't even texted—"

The home phone rang, interrupting him.

He apologized and picked it up. "Sam?!" Tucker blurted into the phone, and I perked my hearing involuntarily so I could hear the conversation.

"_Tucker, calm down. I need you to come and find me. If you can, bring Dani, or some other trustworthy ghost we know."_

"What's wrong?!"

"_It's Vlad. I found him to ask him how he survived his transition into a full-ghost. Bad mistake. He refuses to let me go, and wants Danny. I don't know why." _There was some yelling in the back round. _"I've got to go. Just remember one thing: don't tell Danny."_

Tucker hung up the phone and looked at me awkwardly. "Was that Sam?" I asked, trying to sound like I didn't hear the conversation.

"Yeah. She was just calling to tell me that she's sorry for not responding for a while."

**. . .**

I felt light-headed. It was almost as though my brain had turned off. I couldn't concentrate on anything, so I excused myself from Tucker's presence and went back so my apartment and lay on my bed.

I was going into transition soon. I could feel it in my bones, in my rejiggered molecules. See, the transition was never horrific. I had headaches and body-weakness pre-transition, sure, but when it happened, the only thing I would feel was a falling sensation and then nothing.

As previously mentioned, my apartment was empty. It felt bereaved, really. All the furniture had been thrown out—torn up and shredding during one of my ghostly rages. What remained was a ruined kitchen and carpet stained green with ectoplasm. The only thing I bothered to fix was the shower, but I did buy a new washer for my clothes, though not a dryer. There was no use in spending too much in case I awoke in there again.

I entered the bathroom and looked into the cracked mirror. I kept the same haircut from when I was fourteen. But this time, my hair was rusty, and felt stale when I touched it. I had blatant bags under my eyes, my entire countenance looking completely exhausted and . . . dead. Clothing wise, I had gotten into the habit of wearing big sweaters and loose jeans.

I stripped myself of my clothes and turned the faucet. If I estimated properly, I would most likely only survive the shower. My ghost-half had been getting far more screen time than usual, and it was beginning to bug me. It wasn't the starring role. I was supposed to be. But it was evident that that would change in a month and a week.

As soon as I stepped into the shower, the warm water soothed me. It refreshed my crusty hair and arid skin. Burgundy-colored water swirled down the drain, and I watched in silence as it did.

**. . .**

"Will this be happening to me one day?"

I looked at Dani – with an I – and gave a reassuring smile. "I don't think so. Well, you shouldn't. And besides, you're like, ten years younger than me."

"Physically. It's not my fault that I can't grow up!"

I chuckled at Dani's lame retort. "Not one single bit. Hey, maybe this whole thing is some kind of half-ghost puberty."

"Ew!" Dani wailed, burying her head in her hands. "That's gross! _You're _gross!"

We were sitting in some sort of abandoned apartment. Even though it stunk, it was nice and cool – perfect for a ghost – and was still stacked with comfortable furniture. So even though we were in our human forms, it was still enough to have us buzzing with energy. "Maybe I should give you that talk. You know, 'the birds and the bees'?" I asked, punching her shoulder playfully.

She covered her ears. "No! Do you know how many times some random person has decided to tell me that? I even have teenagers shout the basic instructions at me while I'm walking down the street! 'Hey kid! Wanna know how mommy and daddy made you?'" she said with a shudder.

For a twenty-two year-old, she still acted like a child. Maybe it was because her brain never got the chance to expand and mature. Stuck in a twelve year-old's mentality. Huh. Never thought of that.

"What's ironic is that you weren't even born that way."

Luckily for me, she had long since gotten over the whole "clone" thing. "I know!" she exclaimed, throwing her arms in the air.

I tittered, and she joined me, covering her mouth with her hands. It'd been awhile since I genuinely laughed—everything else was emotion heavy full-ghost-preventing. Maybe it was because Dani was a Halfa like me, half-ghost and a literal clone of me. Just an imperfect clone, perhaps even shoddy. She did turn out a twelve year-old, female version of me that could turn to a puddle of ectoplasm if she overexerted her ghost powers. But she seemed to be doing better than me at the whole "hero" bit.

"Dani, can I ask you a question?"

"You just did," she said with a chuckle.

"Oh ha-ha, so funny. Look, I need you to take over my job when I'm gone."

"You mean getting ghosts back into the Ghost Zone?"

"Yeah. Will you do it? Or be able to do it?"

"Pfft," she waved a hand nonchalantly, "I've been practicing for eons. I'm pretty sure I can fight off some dumb ghosts."

And, in a motion that kind of surprised myself, I hugged her. She remained stiff for the first few moments of the embrace, but then wrapped her arms around me soon enough. Her hug was awkward, arms around me but not squeezing, as though there was no emotion behind it. Though I knew she didn't hate it—had it been in public, she would have squirmed against the hug.

But we weren't in public, so the only thing remaining was the platonic embrace between two self-proclaimed family members.

**. . .**

**This was more of an introduction chapter—there will be a plot, I can assure you. Yeah, this chapter lacks any real plot. Oh well!**


End file.
